The Raven
by Kitsune-242
Summary: Death doesn't really sit well with Shawn Spencer. He's been there, done that. With a mystical crow as his guide, he has returned from the dead to get his revenge. But danger is plenty, and this young crow may just stray to far from his nest...
1. The Raven and The Crow

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The Crow: Stairway to Heaven. If you want the full author's note, it's at the bottom. PLEASE read it. It has some important stuff pertaining to this one-shot(about if you want it to be more than a one-shot), and about me not updating my other two stories for FOREVER.**

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><p>A cry, a thump, a crash, a gunshot. Dodging, rolling, running, jumping. Another gunshot sent shockwaves, but this one stopped short.<p>

A wet _squelch_, a shot of pain, a splatter of blood, and shattering glass.

Falling. Down down down, he was falling!

A crunch of bones, tearing of skin, splatter of blood and gore.

But he was still awake, still alive. Still there to feel the pain that was white-hot.

Then they were by his side, crouching by him, shouting to him, shouting into a phone.

But he couldn't see. His vision was dimming, growing darker, blackness encroaching.

Bleeding, blood pouring from the bullet wound in his chest, from the gaping tears in his skin from the fall. Arteries were torn, blood was pumping, heart slowing.

Bright, flashing lights shone into what remained of his vision.

Red blue red blue red blue red blue red blue red blue red blue!

It never ended, and how he wanted it to end. How the repetitive light in his sensitive eyes hurt so!

They were screaming, telling him to hold on, that somebody was going to help him.

But he hurt too much, his body ached.

The pain was ebbing, now, and the tickle of blood pouring from his body was starting to slow.

His breathing hitched, he began to gag.

How had he even gone on this long? Shot near the heart, then thrown from a multiple-story window? How?

His vision was pinpoints now, bright light shining through. They were begging, pleading for him to stay awake.

But he was already falling again. Down, down, down. He was falling and he couldn't stop.

Through the veil, he was slipping through the cracks. Falling inside the black.

He was spinning, and how it hurt!

He was done. He was throwing in the blood-soaked towel. His vision faded to the same, migraine-inducing flashing of twin lights.

Red blue red blue red blue red blue red blue…

They started to blend together into a sickly purple, and he closed his eyes while someone screamed.

"_SHAWN!"_

_**:::Land of the Between:::**_

For the second time in minutes, he slammed into the ground, but this one didn't hurt. "Dammit!" Shawn Spencer cried, clutching his chest where the bullet had entered. The hole was still in his shirt, the blood was still present on his shirt, but the bullet hole in his chest was…gone?

Indeed, it was gone. Healed over. Vanished. All that remained was a bullet-hole-sized scar that went through his body, a little left of his heart; only by millimeters.

Shawn looked up, his eyebrows raised in confusion. He had just been in the middle of a city, bleeding to death after being shot, the recoil sending him out a nine-plus story window, right? So why was he suddenly here, in the middle of a forest?

A cry off to his left shook him out of his confusion. Good, somebody was here, too! They'd know where he was…hopefully. Unless they were as lost as he was. After all, the cry he had heard had sounded as confused as he felt. Still, Shawn pushed himself to his feet, his knees wobbling slightly as he tried to remember what it felt like to stand; one fall had knocked the knowledge out of his mind.

He stumbled forward, slowly regaining feeling in his legs.

_KOWW! KOWW! _A piercing call from above nearly shattered Shawn's eardrums; it was so loud, and so close. Shawn grit his teeth and looked above, into the branches. A slightly larger-than-normal black crow with neon-green eyes and a bright green hue to his black feathers sat on a low-hanging branch, his head twisting to inspect Shawn from all angles.

"Uh…nice birdy?" Shawn offered with a nervous chuckle. That beak of the bird looked perfect to peck somebody's eyes out…

The bird spread his wings and shrieked, and shot into the air, wings stroking at the air powerfully. Instead of screaming and ducking, like Shawn would have, he stared at the bird in confusion. When the bird had took the skies, he had felt…something.

The bird wanted Shawn to follow him.

For some reason, he didn't question the feeling he got. After all, his father had drilled into his head that instinct was one of your best resources in some situations, and this situation called for nothing other than instinct.

He pushed his way through the brush, following the sound of the bird's beating wings as another pair of wing-beats joined the his own crow. His crow? Where had that come from? As he pushed through the brush, he found a…bridge?

Just a random bridge in the giant forest, and standing in the middle, was a man, a nearly crazy look in his eyes. He had chin-length long black hair, and dark eyes, and looked to have Asian roots. Clinging to the rope that helped form the bridge, was a crow, his eyes a dark blue, with a blue hue to his feathers.

_That's not my crow… _Shawn though, his head cocking to the side in confusion. Where had his bird gone?

_KOWW! _

"HOLY CRAP!" Shawn yelped as he ducked, his crow skimming the top of his head, his talons flicking at his hair as he passed. The man and the blue-tinged crow both turned their heads to Shawn and his green-tinted crow in unison, looks of surprise and confusion taking over both their features.

"Another crow…?" The man in his early twenties muttered, watching as Shawn's crow landed lightly on the bridge next to Shawn's left arm. Shawn glared at the bird next to him.

"Don't do that!" He whined, and reached a hand up to pat at his hair. "You could have messed up my hot hairdo! It takes me hours to make it like this in the morning!" He got the feeling that it wouldn't really matter anymore, though. The feeling came from the very bird that had led him to the bridge.

"You have a crow as well…do you know what that means?" The man asked, his eyes darting between Shawn and the greenish crow while the bluish crow slid slowly towards the other, his eyes curious, with a hint of recognition.

"Not really, no." Shawn responded, before looking around. "Where are we, anyway? I'm not really one for the entire 'randomly wake up in the middle of the forest' deal." Shawn faked a gasp. "I bet it was Lassie who did this! Oh, Lassie-Face, how I annoy you so! But still, I didn't think that he would go so far as to drop me in the middle of the woods in some random place without any way of finding civilization…okay, maybe I _did _think he would go so far-"

"You're dead." The man cut in, making Shawn stop with his mouth open in mid-talk. His smile slowly fell from his face.

"…dammit…" He muttered, his normal, cheerful façade falling quickly. "I…was kinda hoping I dreamed that part up…" He glanced down to his bloodied shirt. "The blood thing makes sense, then…" He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Daaaaamn it." He threw his arms in the air in frustration. "And I was about to crack the biggest case in the frickin' history of California!" He wilted. "I hate my life. Afterlife. Whatever." He straightened. "Does that mean you're dead to?" The man nodded.

"My fiancé and I were killed…I was stabbed then thrown out of a really tall window…you?"

"Shot near the heart, and then my death follows the likeness of yours." Shawn responded. He looked to his crow and the other crow, that sat side by side, each staring at their individual humans. "So you know what's up with the crows?" The man nodded, and got along to explaining slowly and in an even tone. At the end, Shawn just stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

"Bullshit."

_**:::Hours Later, Land of the Living:::**_

"Would you just-"

"Bullshit."

"Shawn, you need to-"

"Bullshit."

"We're already back-"

"Bullshit."

"But you should-"

"Bullshit."

"You're back in the Land of the Living-"

"Bullshit."

"Shawn, would you STOP SAYING BULLSHIT?" Eric Draven, the only other brought-back-to-life man other than Shawn – that they knew about, anyway – and the one that Shawn had met in the Land of the Between, shouted, making the other man stop and looked to him, his eyes wide an innocent. "It's been, what, four hours, and the only thing you've been saying since I explained was 'Bullshit'! Even to my question of 'what's your name'?"

"So then how'd you figure it out, Eric?" Shawn asked, an eyebrow raising. Eric paused, before shrugging.

"I don't know, I…I just know it. The same way you knew my name a second ago, even though I never told you." Shawn scowled, but turned and kept walking.

"Bullshit." Eric groaned, and stormed after the other man. "People don't just come back, Eric! There's Nothing, Life, then Death! Nothing afterwards!" Eric stopped with his own frown, his arms crossed.

"Says the man who claimed to be a psychic for the past two years of his life." Shawn spun around and pointed.

"I didn't tell you that."

"I just know it, like how I knew your name." Eric answered. "I think it might have been when you punched me in the jaw after your fifteenth 'Bullshit'." And damn, did Shawn have a wicked left hook. "Like, a transferring of information or something. I learned your name and a little of your past, and you learned my name and a little of my own past."

"That doesn't happen, Eric! And you said it yourself! 'Claimed to be a psychic'. Which means I wasn't, which means that there's nothing but death! No lingering spirits, no paranormal impressions, and NO. COMING. BACK."

"Why can't you just accept it?" Eric demanded.

"Oh, and you do?"

"Yeah, I do." Eric answered, his expression dark. "I was told by my fiancé that the crow would bring me back because I brought along a sadness into death. That I was to right the wrongs. And I believe in her."

"Well, I've never met this 'Shelly' girl-"

"I never said her name, either."

"-so I _don't _believe in her. Death is death, Eric. Nothing less, and definitely nothing more."

"But this…this _thing_…whatever happened to us…it's not less or more. It's still death. It's…just a different way of getting around to it. We're not alive, Shawn. But we _are _back. But we're not completely dead yet, either. We're...we're…"

"If you say 'Aliead' I'm going to punch you again." Shawn warned.

"I wasn't _going _to." Eric grumbled. "We're somewhere in between life and death. We obviously can't return to life; our time is up. But we can't go on to death yet, either. And, come on, you can _honestly _tell me that you don't have regrets. That you don't have 'unfinished business' or whatever. That you don't want revenge, not even a little bit." Shawn didn't respond.

"Maybe I'm willing to believe this. _Maybe._" Shawn said, and then looked up to Eric, looking like, for lack of better words, a lost and confused child. "How do we get our unfinished business finished?" Eric shrugged, and Shawn groaned. "I'm doomed to living for eternity!" He cried to the skies, before looking back to Eric with a giant grin. "At least I get to keep my devilishly handsome looks." Eric snorted and rolled his eyes. "But seriously…where do we start?"

"How about we figure out the date, and where we are?" Eric responded as he picked up a newspaper that was carelessly thrown onto the sidewalk that they were walking on. He scanned the paper, and his eyes bulged out of his head, his jaw dropping.

"What, what? Lemme see, lemme see!" Shawn cried, jumping like a hyperactive kid to look over the taller man's shoulders. Eric slowly handed the newspaper to Shawn, who frowned as he stared at the paper. "We're in New York?" Shawn muttered. "How'd I get teleported across the country?"

"I'm from New York…" Eric replied, finally pulling out of his stupor. "It's where I was killed…I jumped through the Life-Death World Rift first, so it must have locked onto where I died, and just pulled you through when you jumped as well…"

"More like you and the crows pulled me in after you." Shawn muttered.

"But it isn't really _where _we are that has me so…shocked." Eric said, and then pointed to the date. "I died on October 31 of 2010, and today's date is-"

"Whoa! I died five years before you!" Eric looked at Shawn like he had grown a second head.

"You died in 2010, too, Shawn."

"Oh, really?" Shawn cocked his head. "See, this is why I was going to buy a pocket calendar." Too bad he kept putting it off until he died.

"…anyway, today is October 31, 20_11_. I died a year ago." Eric said. Shawn gaped.

"And if I died on June 14th…I died over a year ago!" Shawn threw the newspaper down onto the sidewalk, and ground his heel into the paper to smother out the name. "Bullshit!"

"Oh no, we're not starting _this _again." Eric said with an air of finality, grabbing Shawn's arm, dragging him away. "But now that we know where we are, and what day it is, I know _exactly _where to start." Eric said, following a route that was familiar to him from years of travelling it. He suddenly stopped at a fork in the road, little cars zooming by in this mostly-deserted part of town; it had become a slum for petty crimes and such in the past year, and not many had the guts to go through it now. Eric looked up the tall building on the other side of the street, his eyes locking onto the shattered, circular window at the very top of the building.

"What is that place?" Shawn asked.

"That, is where Shelly and I lived." Eric whispered. "That's the window I was thrown from." Shawn whistled in grim appreciation of the fall that had killed the man beside him.

"Damn, I'm pretty sure that was more than I fell." Shawn said. "So why start here?" Eric pointed, to where the two crows – their crows – were circling the spire on the top of the building, their wings beating in unison. "Oh. Good reason." The crows, he had learned quickly, knew where they should he heading when it was something important. Shawn pulled away from Eric, who had still had a firm grip on Shawn's sleeve, and held his hand out. Eric stared at the offered hand in confusion, not sure what he should do with the appendage.

"We're going to be helping each other, right?" Shawn questioned, even though both of the brought-back men knew the answer. "Then we should be properly introduced. I'm Shawn Spencer, former 'Psychic' for the Santa Barbara Police Department, recently deceased, and freshly brought back as a…a…" Shawn looked up to the birds circling the building, and smiled lightly. "…a Crow." Eric raised an eyebrow, but let his own smile form. He took the offered hand.

"I'm Eric Draven, former lead guitarist for Hangman's Joke, recently deceased, and freshly brought back as a Crow." He introduced himself. "Of course we'll be helping each other. Us Crows have to stick together, right?"

"Indeed, Sir Draven!" Shawn said, lowering his voice and puffing out his chest, before strutting like a chicken towards the building that the crows were circling.

"You know," Eric mused, following after his new roommate at a more normal gait. "I think the proper term for a group of Crows is a 'Murder'."

"Well isn't _that _irony at its best." Shawn snorted, before looking to Eric with a grin. "We can be a Murder! But I ain't preening your feathers or whatever."

"…do I want to know if you were implying something?" Eric asked slowly.

"No special hugging! No special hugging for us!" Shawn chanted.

"Ew. Just…gross."

"What? Does liking another man scare you? Or does it not scare you…and does _that _scare you?"

"I'm regretting this 'helping' thing already."

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><p><strong>...Ih sowwy. :( For those of you who read my story <strong>**Vulpes Alveus****, anyway. Ih SOWWY! I know, I know, I should be updating THAT after my however-month-long absence, but as is obvious, I have a problem. I know what I want to happen, but I just can't get it down right. I have quite a few drafts of the chapter, but none of them are…right. The other chapters I always have the feeling that they're ready for the internet, but I just can't get this one right!**

**Frickin' plot/typing bunnies. ****SHOOT 'EM! ()_()  
><strong>** (x . x)  
>( u u )o<strong>

**Damn evil...*clears ****throat***** Anyway...****Since the typing bunnies have infested ****Vulpes Alveus**** and mated the way only typing bunnies can, I decided to see if I could scare them away with intimidation; namely, typing this one-shot. I hope to be updating ****Vulpes Alvues**** soon, and as for ****Demon's Shadow****…yeah, I'll get around to that eventually.**

**AS FOR THE ONE-SHOT THING. Yes, this is a one-shot, so yes, it is done. BUT. I'm going to be nice(since I got away from the typing bunnies long enough to type this thing out, I'm feeling giving tonight.), and give YOU, the READERS, the CHANCE to make this a full-time story. As in multiple chapters, and a storyline that answers the questions this fanfic didn't. I have an idea for one, but I don't know if I want to continue this or not. **

**SO TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. PM ME, WRITE IT IN A REVIEW, I DON'T CARE. JUST TELL ME IF YOU WANT THIS TO GO FROM A ONE-SHOT TO A MULTIPLE-SHOT. **

**If you have any complaints, comments, or whatever, drop me a PM. I'll try to respond. 8D**

**~Kitsune-242: Who is now once more hiding from the typing bunnies who have FOUND. HER. P.S. – If you randomly find the word 'stegosaurus' in this story, it is NOT. MY FAULT. **


	2. Top of the Dollar, Bottom of the Coin

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or Crow: Stairway to Heaven. THIS DOESN'T MEAN THAT I'M CONTINUING. Not like anybody has really read this anyway. Besides one person who asked me to at least post chapter two to answer a few more questions. So, here's chapter two! Unless people tell me, this is it! **

**EDIT: *gigglesnort* I kinda want to call this 'The Raven: Escalator to Hell' or something, just because it sounds funny(and kinda mirrors The Crow: Stairway to Heaven). I'm not gonna name it that, but I'm gonna CALL it that. *gigglesnort* escalator… XD**

_**REMEMBER. ONLY YOU CAN TELL ME IF YOU WANT ME TO GO ON. OTHERWISE, THIS IS DONE.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<br>Top of the Dollar, Bottom of the Coin**

Shawn twisted and turned on the mattress that was placed near Eric's own on the floor of the Loft, his eyes scrunched shut. He stopped moving so erratically when his heightened senses told him a few things; the click of a lock, the shuffle of feet, the taste of confusion in the air, and the scent of two people, one familiar, and the other young and unfamiliar.

The door to the loft swung open, and there stood Eric and a young, light-haired girl dressed in baggy clothes and carrying a skateboard underneath her arm. Eric just stared where Shawn lay under the covers, his back towards them, while the girl raised an eyebrow.

"Who's the bum sleeping in your apartment?" She questioned. Shawn's eye twitched.

"He's not a bum, he's just a freeloader." His eye twitched once more.

"He looks more like some dirty homeless man to me." Twitch.

"He would be. Without my help, anyway." Twitch.

"So he's pathetic and can't help himself." Double twitch.

"Pretty much. Hey, you dead?" Eric asked, nudging Shawn's shoulder with his booted foot. Shawn shot up in bed faster than any normal human could, his eyes holding an insane light, and his hands ripping at his messy hair.

"Don't touch me! I was concentrating!" Shawn barked.

"On _what_?" Eric asked incredulously.

"Sleeping! We've been here for four days and I haven't slept ONCE!" Shawn said, and began to fake-cry. "I need my beauty sleep to keep up my handsome looks…" The girl leaned towards Eric as Shawn collapsed with mock sobs, his face covered with his hands.

"You're not living with a freeloader, you're living with an insane person." She whispered.

"Tell me about it." Eric muttered. Shawn suddenly looked up, staring straight at the girl, his face completely devoid of emotion.

"Who's the little girl, anyway? She seems to know you." Shawn looked to Eric. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to contact anything from B.D."

"B.D.?" The girl asked in confusion.

"Before Death." Eric responded with a roll of his eyes. "His name's Shawn Spencer, and he was murdered last year, like me. He's from Santa Barbara and used to be a psychic detective. And Shawn, this is Sarah. And I didn't go and contact her, she found me when I was incapacitated by being shot over 34 times." Shawn raised an eyebrow, hardly holding back his snickers.

"Why'd you get shot that many times?"

"Because bullets are fast and hard to dodge. You try it some time and tell me how it goes."

"No thanks! Last time I tried to dodge a bullet, I was thrown out a window and then got stuck in supernatural limbo with you and two birds." Shawn said cheerfully. "But where'd you find somebody that would shoot you that many times? Usually somebody shoots you once to conserve bullets."

"The guys that killed me and Shelly." Eric responded. "I over-estimated our healing capabilities. They had a lot of guns and even more bullets."

"And they're insane repeat-murderers that are trigger happy. I get it." Shawn said with a nod before standing. "So you got to figure out that over 40 bullets is bad for your health, and I found out that sleeping doesn't work anymore." Shawn sighed. "Perfect. And I _liked _sleeping."

"You guys can't sleep anymore?" Sarah asked with wide eyes.

"Or eat." Eric confirmed.

"Or die, but the last one is kind of a win-lose situation." Shawn nearly tripped as he jumped off of the mattress. "Did you at least get _one _of those guys that got you and your sweetheart?"

"I almost had one named Tin Tin. Scared the crap out of him with the healing thing." Eric said slowly, running a hand through his hair. "But then his friends remembered they had a freaking SWAT team arsenal in their trailer." Shawn made a grunt of understanding as his crow drifted from the rafters and landed on his shoulder.

"So you have one too…" Sarah whispered, but Eric heard her.

"From what we understand, all of us who return have one." Eric sighed.

"And I named them!" Shawn declared proudly. Eric shot him a bemused look.

"Since when?"

"Since yesterday." Shawn pointed to his bird. "Karasu." He pointed to Eric's, who was perched on one of the iron bars that had created a design in the window that Eric had gone through a year ago. "Raven." Eric furrowed his brow as he slowly translated 'Karasu' to English, having to look back to when he had started to learn Japanese when he was younger because he had simply wanted to.

"You basically just named our birds Crow and Crow!" Eric cried.

"Ah ah!" Shawn said with a sly grin. "Karasu means raven in Japanese, and ravens are technically just crows, and your bird is named Raven! So really, I named them Raven and Raven!" In reality, Shawn hadn't put much thought into the bird's names. He just picked something that was easy to remember and short. "Anyway-" Shawn paused, his brow furrowing. Eric froze, cocking his head.

"Someone's coming." The two said in perfect unison. A split second later, a knock echoed on the door.

"Sarah?" A man's voice called through the door, muffled. "Sarah, are you in there?"

"Crap!" Sarah hissed. "It's the cop from your case, Eric. I'll let him drop me off and then I'll be back. Stay here, okay?" She said. Eric nodded, and then stepped away from the center of the room, into the shadows. Shawn blinked, and then slinked into the shadows after his roommate. Sarah picked up her backpack, swung it over her left shoulder, and then picked up her coat and skateboard with the same hand. She quickly shuffled to the door, opened it a crack, and slid out, closing it firmly behind her.

"This…isn't really gonna go well." Eric muttered. Shawn narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "What're you doing?"

"Shh." Shawn whispered, holding up a finger to quiet the man. "I'm using what made the SBPD believe I was a psychic in the first place." He focused on everything around him, his eyes searching for anything that would literally light up in vision to let him know what might be happening. The underside of the door flashed briefly in his vision, drawing his attention to it. A large shadow started to move away, before suddenly stopping. A loud thump followed as a smaller shadow joined the first, and the door began to wrestle open, one large, dark hand trying to push it open, while two, smaller and paler hands tried to pull it closed as Sarah protested with the man in the hallway.

The door swung open, the dark-skinned man in a gray trench coat stronger than young Sarah, and his eyes shot wide when he caught sight of Eric standing in the back corner, his face cloaked by shadows. Shawn was hidden deeper in the shadows, his body blocked by Eric's larger one. The man pulled out a small revolver, and pointed it at Eric, pushing Sarah towards the door with his foot.

"I don't know who you are, but I want your hands to reach for the ceiling." The man demanded, steadying his hands. Shawn poked out from behind Eric, making the African-American man jump; he hadn't known there were _two _men in the room.

"Does that include me?" Eric face palmed as he pushed Shawn into the light of the window. The man stumbled, but caught himself before he took a header into the floor. Eric followed, but at a slower and more steady pace. He then turned to face the man with a gun, and raised his hands in the air, exchanging a quick, taunting smile with Shawn. The former psychic got the message easily. As if _that gun _could cause damage to the two of them. If he had fifteen more and, say, a bazooka, maybe the two should start worrying. _Maybe._ Eric looked back to the man.

"This okay?" He asked. The man – the _cop_, Shawn realized – worked his jaw up and down, recognition in his eyes. Recognition; recognition was _not _good.

"Did he hurt you?" The man questioned Sarah. "Did _they _hurt you."

"Leave them alone, they've been through enough." Sarah said, and tried to make her way over to the two, but the man gripped her around the shoulders, and shoved her towards the door.

"Go. Get going." He ordered. Sarah looked to Eric, who just nodded his head. She waved to Shawn, who smiled and waved back energetically. Once Sarah had left – they heard the stair door slam loudly behind her as she stormed out – he looked back to Eric. "You. You Eric Draven?" He asked, motioning with his gun to Eric.

"Not if it's a crime." Eric said evenly.

"What about you?" The man asked, ignoring Eric's unsatisfying response. He looked to Shawn.

"The name is John Jacob _Jingly_ Schmitt. At least it used to be. I met another John Jacob Jingly Schmitt – his name was my name too - and changed my name because of all the shouting when I went out." Shawn said, keeping his face even the entire time. The man stared at him strangely, and Shawn sighed. "I forgot; this part of the country doesn't know of my _awesome _alibis. I'm Shawn Spencer."

"The psychic consultant who was killed over a year ago. Right."

"HEAD psychic consultant of the SBPD, thank you!" Shawn declared with pride.

"You two and I are gonna have a talk."

_**:::New York Police Department:::**_

Turns out the man's name was Alberecht(**A/N: I have no idea if that is right, but I'm too lazy to look it up. So, the spelling may change a few times. :D), **and he really _was _the guy who had worked Eric's and Shelly's murder a year and four days ago. The entire reason he had heard about Shawn Spencer was because he had a relative in Santa Barbara who had witnessed the rise of the psychic detective, and then had transferred the news of Shawn's death to their cousin when it had come around.

Now, Shawn and Eric were in the New York Police Department, in one of the interrogation rooms, across from Alberecht as he repeatedly flicked his Zippo open and closed. It was a tactic he had picked up from his old partner; the repetitive noise in the silence would make the one being interrogated fidget and finally crack. But these two that crouched on their seats – Eric was hugging his knees while crouching while Shawn was crouching and leaning back on his chair at an angle that normally would have toppled him over – were good. They had been in the room with Alberecht staring them down for two hours, and they had yet to buckle. Alberecht decided to take a different approach.

"So if you're Draven-" He looked to Shawn "-and if you're Spencer-" He looked to both of them "-where have you two been lately?"

"I don't know." Eric said with a slight smirk. Shawn, seeing how this was much more serious than when he had been taken into an interrogation room years ago when the SBPD thought he was on the inside of a few crime, was completely serious; even more than he had been for the past few days.

"I concur." He said with a raised fist, before bending his body to nearly copy Eric's pose of a perched raven. His eyes darted to the single window that had bars running through it, and his lips twitched into a light smile; Karasu and Raven were sitting there, staring at them with almost taunting expressions.

"You don't want to answer the question?" Alberecht tried.

"That _is _our answer." Shawn said, and leveled a light glare on the detective.

"That's going to be a problem for me, because I'm going to need specifics." Alberecht returned the glare with his own. His was more intense. "Places, phone numbers. People who can confirm what you two are telling me." Eric just stared, but Shawn suddenly grinned, his light glare staying on his face.

"I can give you a number! _And _a person! Even a place, if you want." Alberecht hurriedly pushed a pad of paper and a pencil to Shawn while Eric shot him a confused look that look more like a scowl. Alberecht pointed to the pad of paper, and demanded Shawn write down the answers. Shawn took his time to write in his all-caps handwriting, his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. Then he turned the pad around, and pushed it back to Alberecht with a cheerful smile. Alberecht's eyes darted over the words, and Eric looked them over without turning his head.

_Place: Land of the Between_

_Number: 1-800-WE-R-DEAD_

_Ask for the Grim Reaper_

_P.S: Hi Albey! _

Alberecht looked up with a scowl at Shawn, who pointed. "And that's all legit!" Well, not the Grim Reaper part, but whatever. Eric turned his head to his shoulder to hide his snickers, but then looked back to Alberecht with a poker-face.

"There _is _no story." He continued. "I'm not trying to convince you. We're not even completely sure what day it is."

"Really?" Alberecht asked without sounding convinced. "It's is exactly one year, and four days, since you were 'murdered'." Alberecht motioned to Shawn. "And even more time for your own 'murder'." He lifted an eyebrow as Eric and Shawn shot each other a look; well, that solved the entire 'what day is it' problem. Then again, if it had actually mattered to them anymore, they could have just gone and looked at a calendar or a neon sign in front of a bank. "That surprise you?" The detective asked, mistaking the look the two gave each other as shock.

"Y'know, _nothing _surprises us lately." Shawn said with a careless tone. Alberecht ignored him.

"Let's start with who the other guy was." He said to Eric. "A man was thrown from a sixteenth floor window after having a dagger plunged into his right lung. What was his name?" Eric snorted.

"That was me." Shawn raised a hand briefly in the air.

"And the guy in Santa Barbara that got shot and then thrown from a building – I believe it was around twelve stories, but I can't be too sure – was me too." He said with…was it _pride_?

"But you both are here." Alberecht pointed out with narrowed eyes. "You couldn't be here if it was you."

"And yet here we are." Eric said with a dramatic tone. Alberecht started to speak again – something about Eric, a carton of milk, and a box of Raisin Bran – but Eric wasn't listing, so neither was Shawn. Shawn was watching Eric out of the corner of his eye as all emotion left Eric's face, and he tilted his head in a similar way to a confused bird. His eyes roamed slowly around the room, seeing nothing that was there. Shawn knew that look; he was seeing through the eyes of Raven.

_Karasu, mind if I have a look?_ Shawn asked, and in a split second, his mind was seeing through the eyes of his bird. Apparently, Karasu and Raven had left during the interrogation, and had flown to some club in the city. Both were perched by a window, and Shawn saw a few familiar men – and one that wasn't familiar – holding Sarah and forcing her into a hidden room. From the memories exchanged with Eric when he had punched him days before, Shawn recognized a few of the men as those that had killed Eric and Shelly.

He was pulled from his Crow Vision when he heard a chair scrape against the floor back where he was, and Eric saying something. He looked around to see Alberecht saying that Eric was under arrest for the murder of Shelly Webster, and how Shawn, whoever he was, was under arrest for helping. Shawn winced; if Alberecht hadn't been an innocent man, his head would have been through a wall. But Shawn knew when Eric was turning into The Crow, and now was that time. Eric turned away from Alberecht, but Shawn's sharp eyes caught as his nails turned to black, and as his skin turned pale. The feeling in the air – the feeling of the supernatural – became clogged. Alberecht didn't notice, but to Shawn, it was almost suffocating. He was almost tempted to Shift himself, but he forced that urge down; Alberecht was in the room, and taunting him and freaking him out were two totally different things. Better to leave Shifting as a trump card for later.

"You two had better think long and hard about your stories; it means the difference for life and death." Alberecht whispered in Eric's ear, but Shawn heard it.

"The difference between life and death?" A certain edge had been added to Eric's voice; he sounded more cocky and confident, more powerful. "You have _no idea_." Alberecht stormed out of the room, and Eric turned.

His face had changed. His skin was now a much paler color, border-lining white. Surrounding his eyes was a deep black color, as if his eyes existed in large sockets. Going vertically through each eye was a black strike. His eyes had a dark blue sheen to them whenever the light hit them a certain way. His lips had now been painted black, and the color extended past his mouth and turned upwards into a smile. But he wasn't smiling.

"We need to go." He said. Shawn stood up, nodding his head in agreement.

"I saw through Karasu's eyes. Sarah's in trouble. With the guys that tried to see if you could fly while your wings were clipped." Shawn explained. Both he and looked to the locked doors. "You know, working with the cops has its advantages; it's mandatory for the interrogation room doors to stay open when the room is empty." Shawn said with a grin.

"So all we need to do is make them empty." Eric mused.

Minutes later, Alberecht came back in with another man; the Lieutenant. Lieutenant Vincense**(A/N: Again, not sure if it's the right spelling, but STILL too lazy to check.), **unless Shawn was mistaken. "Well? Where's your guys?" Vincense questioned as Alberecht entered.

"No no, they were _right here_." Alberecht said, and began to search the room; checking behind the door and feeling under the table. Shawn nearly snickered; like they would actually be hiding _there_. Vincense rolled his eyes, but left. Alberecht slowly followed, leaving Shawn and Eric alone in the room. Shawn nearly swung down from the ceiling, but stopped short, hanging upside down from the ceiling, straddling a beam in the ceiling with his ankles. He looked out the door, his green-tinted irises scanning for anything.

Shawn nearly looked like Eric now. His face was white, his eyes were surrounded by black with a strike going up his forehead over each eye, over his eyelid, and then down his cheek to face to nothing, and his lips were painted with a black smile. His smile, unlike Eric's, was a little larger and turned upwards a little more. As he grinned and showed off his perfect teeth with his canines lengthened into fangs, the painted-on smile stretched wider in a way that would have sent shivers down anybody's spine. Anybody besides Eric, who was pressed into a corner of the ceiling, using his hands and feet to keep him from falling; even though no other human could have done this without some type of special devices to help. Or, you know, if they were Spider-Man. "Coast is clear." Shawn said, and then released the beam, flipping down to the floor. Eric followed shortly, and both landed silently. "You know, if I would have tried that before, I would have landed on my head." Who was he kidding? He wouldn't have even been able to get up onto the ceiling in the first place. Eric just nodded in agreement.

The two slid into the hall, using stealth that only they could achieve to make their way to an open window. Without hesitation, they jumped out, landing on the roof of a Police Transport. The leapt off the truck, and separated, searching the police impound lot for something that would help. Eric ended up with a large black motorcycle. "Shawn!" Eric hissed so the police on duty wouldn't hear voices in the lot that was supposed to be empty. There was a guard to the impound lot, but he was asleep, so he was the least of their worries.

Shawn returned, pulling his own motorcycle with him, this one dark gray. "You like 'cycles too?" He asked with a grin. Eric looked Shawn's bike over with approval, not giving an answer as it was obvious. The two kicked their motorcycles into drive, and shot off at 50 mph, rocketing towards where Eric knew the club lay. "We have a plan?" Shawn called as the wind rushed past them.

"Yeah. Go inside, find Top Dollar, beat the crap out of him, get Sarah back."

"I'll let you handle this one, then."

"Don't tell me you're scared!" Eric taunted.

"I'm able to take a bullet in the chest and keep going! I'm not scared!" Shawn called, swerving around a corner after the darker-haired man. "But this is the man that orchestrated your death; it's your revenge to take, not mine!"

"Aw. Aren't you a gentleman." Eric sarcastically quipped, braking his bike. He slid off of the motorcycle, and pointed to Shawn as the former-psychic's crow landed on said man's shoulder. "You wait out here and make sure no cops come to crash this party…okay?"

"Got it." Shawn responded, throwing his thumps up. He rubbed at his face with both his palms, and when he pulled his hands away, his facial features had returned to normal. "Knock 'em dead, Eric. Literally."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Eric rolled his eyes, and stormed inside, right past the bouncer that attempted to hold him back, and failed. Shawn circled around to the back of the building, underneath a fire escape, and leaned against the wall, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. He waited, and smirked when screams of frightened club-goers and the shattering of glass reached his ears. Seconds later, he jumped in surprise as a car came roaring around the corner, and parked itself. In the car were two people that Shawn recognized from Eric's memories; T-Bird was driving, and the other was Tin Tin. Funboy had to be around here somewhere…

"Hey! Who're you?" Tin Tin barked. Shawn frowned; working with the SBPD had given him a dislike for murderers, and now that he actually knew what it felt like for the victims…the fear, the confusion, watching as your loved ones screamed for you to stay while you already were gone… He hated murderers. It was plain and simple. He hated the murderers that were locked up, despised those that got out early on a technicality or for 'good behavior', and he was enraged at those that didn't get caught at all.

Guess which one Tin Tin and T-Bird were?

"Hey, are you stupid?" T-Bird demanded, and pulled out a long dagger from his pocket. He began to wave it in the air, and Shawn cocked his head like a bird would as he watched the blade go back and forth a few inches from his eyes. "Get lost!" Shawn didn't move; he kept his eyes on the dagger. It was familiar…

…it was the one that had stabbed Eric right before he had died. Shawn slowly brought his eyes up to look T-Bird in the eyes. Shawn's brown eyes that were almost black – after he had returned, his eye color had faded to a darker version of his once hazel eye color – took on a bright green sheen, as he suddenly allowed emotion – surprise – to flood onto his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me for a second." Shawn reached into his pocket, and pulled out his green-encased iPhone that he had somehow brought with him into death, and then back to the Land of the Living. "My phone's ringing…" Shawn said, even though it wasn't true, and looked down. A quiet cracking noise drifted through the air as Shawn's nails turned black. "My phone is ringing…" Shawn repeated, before suddenly lifting his head, and punching T-Bird in the nose wi the fist that held his iPhone. "It's for YOU!" Shawn cried as he did so; his face had returned to his Crow visage, the grin painted onto his lips even as he frowned.

"W-what the hell?" Tin Tin cried. "He's like that other guy!"

"I hear you've met The Crow." Shawn said in the best creepy voice he could muster as he cracked his knuckles. "Allow me to introduce to you The Raven." Shawn held his hand out and beckoned them forward. "Come and try and hit me!" He demanded. "But aim carefully; only one hit to a customer!" _God I sound insane. _Shawn thought as T-Bird lunged with the knife, trying to stab at Shawn in rapid succession. "Strike one!" Miss. "Strike two!" Miss. "Strike three!" Shawn lifted up an empty metal garbage bin, and slammed it down on T-Bird so his body was trapped inside. "You're out!"

He heard the whistle of something thin slice through the air, so he ducked, crying; "Batter up!" He stuck his foot out behind him, delivering a heel to the mouth to Tin Tin. "Hey, Aluminum Foil! Is that all you got?" Shawn demanded, turning to look to the chain-wielding man.

"The name is _Tin Tin_." The man said, holding his mouth so no blood would spill out from his busted lip. No such luck.

"Same thing." Shawn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He then smirked and looked back to Tin Tin. He clenched his fists, his knuckles popping. In a low, dangerous voice, he said; "Play ball."

_**:::Ten Minutes Later:::**_

Eric and Sarah just stared, Eric with his eyes wide, and Sarah with her jaw dropped to the floor. "Um…Shawn?" Eric asked slowly.

"Yeah?" Shawn responded, the picture of innocence as he sat on the bloody and battered bodies of T-Bird, Tin Tin, and Funboy that were piled underneath him, one on top of the other. He followed their line of sight to the three murderers and rapists beneath him. "Oh, we just played some baseball." Shawn said with a cheerful smile; his Crow visage was gone, taking the eerie factor out of Shawn's grin. Eric looked to a snapped metal bat with a face that said he might throw up; especially since it looked like a massive purple and yellow bruise was forming on T-Bird's face.

"What's with the bat?" Sarah asked, voicing what Eric was to queasy to.

"Funboy snuck up on me with it. He hit my head with it." Shawn explained.

"How'd it break?" Eric asked, his focus once again drawn to the bruised face of T-Bird. Shawn blinked.

"He hit me in the head with it." He deadpanned. "I thought I already said that? Oh well. ANYWAY, no cops showed up, but T-Bird and Tin Tin did in a car. Funbody snuck up on us later. With the bat. They wanted to play, so I played. Fought them. Won. Now I'm playing Angry Birds." Shawn said, displaying the picture on his iPhone with pride. "So was your night as eventful as mine?" He asked, looking back to the game he was enjoying.

"If by eventful you mean to ask if Top Dollar is up in his office having a mental seizure and blabbering about hamburgers with extra cheese, then definitely." Eric said, not looking quite so disgusted now that he knew Shawn hadn't bashed T-Birds face in, causing the bat to snap. "He's the one that sent T-Bird back here; to bring an escape car around." Shawn ignored the last comment, and furrowed his brow.

"Top Dollar's still alive? What, did you choke in killing him?" Shawn asked. "Or do you not want revenge anymore."

"I transferred the pain from objects from his past murders, Shelly's pain, and my own into Top Dollar." Eric said with a shake of his head. "Shelly wouldn't want me to kill somebody just for revenge…rotting in prison or a mental asylum is much better revenge than killing somebody."

"And it'll way less on your conscience." Sarah added, lightly punching Eric in the arm. Eric lightly rubbed the spot she had punched him, even though he hardly felt it at all. The three sat in silence as the sirens of approaching police vehicles grew louder.

"Well? Now what?" Shawn asked. "You righted the wrong. Aren't you supposed to be moving on to the great white light in the sky?"

"We didn't go to a white light in the sky to begin with." Eric rolled his eyes.

"How do you know? I woke up in the forest, and you fell on your face in the middle of a giant puddle!" Shawn waved his arms around, as if to emphasize his point. Sarah stared at them strangely, but didn't comment; questions could wait till later.

"Um, guys?" She tried weakly, but was promptly ignored.

"I promised you that I would help you finish what you started, right?" Eric asked.

"Guys?" Sarah tried again, looking to the flashing red and blue lights that were growing closer.

"Yeah, and I did to. Your point?" Shawn responded, still not hearing the little girl.

"GUYS?" Sarah squeaked as she saw a cop car pull to a halt at the end of the alley.

"Maybe I can't move on until I help you, since we came back together, and I promised. And if we had started with your unfinished business, then _you _wouldn't have been able to move on until you helped _me_."

"Hello?" Sarah flinched when a cop nearly looked DIRECTLY into their hiding spot; not that the middle of a wide alley was really hiding…

"Good point…" Shawn agreed with a nod. "That must be it."

"GUYS?" Sarah practically screamed, making the two Crows look to her. "I'm all for you guys figuring this stuff out, but you can't really finish your unfinished crab if you're in jail!" She pointed to the cop cruiser. Shawn jumped off the pile of unconscious murderers.

"Crap! Run!" He cried, and raced off into the street on the opposite end of the alley. Eric and Shelly exchanged glances, before tearing off after him.

_**:::That Morning:::**_

Eric sat near the window, plucking lightly at the strings of his electric guitar that he had…'reclaimed'…from a pawn shop not too far from the Loft, his crow perched on his shoulder, occasionally pecking at his hair, or watching his shift on the strings.

Shawn sat on the steps that led up to a platform before the window, his right index finger hovering over the screen of his iPhone. He stared at the screen that displayed who he had called the most since he had gotten the phone for Christmas from his father. His finger drifted back and forth, gently stroking each name that was personalized for him.

_Dad_

_Gus_

_Jules_

_Chief Vick_

_Lassie_

He shifted his gaze to two that meant a lot to him; not as much as the five most commonly-called names, but still important to him none the less.

_Psych Office_

_Home_

He shook his head, and pressed his finger down firmly on _Gus_. He slowly and hesitantly brought the phone to his ear, and waited as he heard it ring.

"_Hello. This is Burton Guster speaking. May I ask who's calling?" _The voice of Gus echoed through the phone. But Gus's voice sounded different. More hollow. Hiding sadness. Eric spun around, stopping in his playing of guitar as his eyes shot wide. Shawn worked his jaw up and down, trying to force words out of his throat. But none came. He was silent. _"Hello?" _Gus asked again. Once more, Shawn tried to speak. But nothing came. _"Is this a prank call? I have caller ID, you know." _Gus said. Shawn was still quiet, not finding what he wished to tell Gus.

He knew what he _wanted _to say. But he just…couldn't. He heard something shift on the other line, and knew instinctively that Gus was looking at the caller ID. He heard a strangled choke as Gus shoved the phone roughly back to his ear.

"_How did you clone this number? Who are you? I have connections, I can track this and get you arrested for stealing the number of a dead man!"_ Shawn pulled the phone from his ear, and hit END. He looked to Eric, who was crouching next to him.

"I thought we agreed it'd be best if we didn't contact anybody." He said. Shawn nodded.

"I just…I don't want them to worry…" He muttered. Eric rested a hand on Shawn's shoulder briefly.

"You've been gone for over a year. They won't be worrying." Eric said, before standing, and going back to what he had been doing before; playing a random tune on his guitar. Shawn stared at his phone, and slowly, he slid his finger up to the 'edit' button. Small minus signs colored red appeared next to each name, and he hit the minus sign next to each name that connected him to his past. Some were easier than others, and he deleted those first. As he erased each name and place, he felt like he was ripping away more and more of his past, tearing down more and more of who he was. He kept going, refusing to stop, until he had only seven names left.

_Dad_

_Gus_

_Jules_

_Chief Vick_

_Lassie_

_Psych Office_

_Home_

He hit the minus signs, then hit delete. A transparent blue sign popped up, white words printed plainly.

_Would you like to delete these contacts? They cannot be recovered after deletion._

_Yes No_

Shawn stared at these words, his finger drifting back and forth between the two answers. His finger lingered on no, and slowly approached the screen. He closed his eyes with a sigh, and opened them again. All emotion was gone from his face. He was steeled, hardened to everything that he was thinking and feeling. He inhaled, and then let it out. His old life was gone, and he had seen to that. He had already deleted everything but these seven numbers. They were all he had left of what essentially made Shawn Spencer himself.

_Would you like to delete these contacts? Yes or no? _

He inhaled and released a breath, shaking his head.

He hit yes.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't really know if I like how this turned out or not. But to the guy who PM'd me, I hope this answers a few more questions! TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO GET MORE!<strong>

**PLEASE TELL ME TO CONTINUE, STOP, OR…whatever. REVIEW PLEASE!**

**~Kitsune-242**


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